August is upon us, and all the children in the country are gearing up for going back to school. New clothes, new pencils, new teachers. During my sixteen years of controlled education, the theme was always survival. Wake up too early, stay too long, listen too much. I worked as hard as anyone should as a student, and you won't find a C grade or lower on any of my report cards. Even with graded success, the entire process seemed to be lacking. I let myself get filled up with reading, writing and 'rithmetic, but in truth, the only thing I wanted was for someone to answer me the simple question--What am I doing here?

When politicians talk about the education system, they use words like overhaul, revamp, vouchers, and revitalization. They want computers in every classroom. They want no child to be left behind. They want high test scores. They want the kids to be smarter, run faster, and not shoot anyone. The more people try to make improvements in the name of education, the more it moves in the wrong direction. The answer isn't in the back of the text book, on the computer screen or in a shiny new facility. We fill kids up with facts and figures. They learn about routine and repetition. Education is not about intelligence and innovation. It's about regurgitation and ingraining answers into children brains that we already know. The talented ones might get on a game show someday.

I just finished rereading Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger. No teacher told me to read this book, but these stories got me much closer to answering the 'What am I doing here?' question than twelve years of public school and four years of college. There is a tiny bit from the last of the nine called 'Teddy' that deals with education. Teddy is a ten year old boy who is considered a genius. It pretty much sums up my view on the subject, and I know J.D. said it better than I ever could. So here it is:

Nicholson looked up at him, and sustained the look--detaining him. "What would you do if you could change the educational system?" he asked ambiguously. "Ever think about that at all?"

"I really have to go," Teddy said.

"Just answer that one question," Nicholson said. "Education's my baby, actually--that's what I teach. That's why I ask."

"Well . . . I'm not too sure what I'd do," Teddy said. "I know I'm pretty sure I wouldn't start with the things that schools usually start with." He folded his arms and reflected briefly. "I think I'd first just assemble all the children together and show them how to meditate. I'd try to show them how to find out who they are. Not just what their names are and things like that . . . I guess, even before that, I'd get them to empty out everything their parents and everybody ever told them. I mean, even if their parents just told them an elephant's big, I'd make them empty that out. An elephant's only big when it's next to something else--a dog or a lady, for example." Teddy thought another moment. "I wouldn't even tell them an elephant has a trunk. I might show them an elephant, if I had one handy, but I'd let them just walk right up to the elephant not knowing anything more about it than the elephant knew about them. The same thing with grass, and other things. I wouldn't even tell them grass is green. Colors are only names. I mean if you tell them grass is green, it makes them start expecting the grass to look a certain way--your way--instead of some other way that may be just as good, and maybe much better . . . I don't know. I'd just make them vomit up every bit of the apple their parents and everybody made them take a bite out of."

Welcome back to school, kids. Please sit quietly while the teacher is speaking.

Chris Jungle and J.D. don't need no education or thought control.